


give me that (second) chance

by aozu



Category: Free!
Genre: 2014 Makoto Birthday Fanworks Exchange, Future Fish ED AU, Handcuffs, M/M, friendly teasing, when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/aozu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future Fish ED AU.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“I know you spend every waking moment with Haru,” he starts seriously, (and it’s true; Haru and Makoto has known each since they were babies and now they are flatmates and they still have lunch together every day; Rin has tiresomely accepted that they’re a ‘two-in-one, buy-one-get-one-free’ kind of package) “But seriously?” he raises an eyebrow to demand, incredulous.</p>
  <p>“Makoto,” he sighs. “Makoto, I am nulling our friendship right this very moment. I’m done. So done.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	give me that (second) chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovenotes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovenotes/gifts).



> This was written for the 2014 Makoto Birthday Fanworks Exchange, sincerely hope that OP enjoyed my attempt!
> 
> Original prompt: future fish au where Makoto accidentally calls Rin "Haru" and Rin gets mad and refuses to talk to Makoto and Makoto profusely apologizes and everything but Rin still won't cave so Makoto takes desperate measures and steals one of Rin's handcuffs and handcuff himself to Rin. What happens next is up to you :) But keep the mood light-hearted. Makoto knows Rin isn't genuinely angry and he just kinda finds the situation amusing so his apologizes have a teasing tint to it so thats why Rin refuses to capitulate.

 

The thing is, they do this every morning, except on the weekends, but still. _Every_ morning, for the past four years. It’s not even in the beginning of their adult life when they first settled into their different jobs, still figuring out their routine. All three of them grew up together in the same middle school until Rin transferred to a different high school, but all of them stayed competitive swimmers, though none of them made it a career. Haru was surprisingly the first to decide what he wanted to do, which was to work at a bakery. Makoto initially volunteered around their community and found his calling at the fire station. Rin himself took the longest to find a job he liked, bumming around doing odd jobs until Sousuke, his high school best friend, suggested that he joined the police force along with the other.

In fact, they’ve been living comfortably with their habits since then like clockwork—the three of them meet every morning for a quick bite and coffee at Haru’s bakery before departing off for the day. Haru will always be busy in the kitchens fussing over a batch of his bread, while Makoto and he would eat couple of earlier baked rolls at a table in the corner.

Rin has been Makoto’s breakfast partner for the past _four_ years—just the _two_ of them, at the table (Haru only pokes his head out to mutter a nonchalant goodbye when they leave)—so it is completely justified that Rin is truly at a loss for words on this particular Wednesday when Makoto drinks the last of his coffee and says,

“Haru, you’re going to be late.”

And it seems like a completely natural sentence for Makoto to say, such that Rin merely grunts and stuffs the last sausage roll in his mouth. But when he’s half-standing, ready to leave with the bread swallowed down his throat, he realises what is so utterly _wrong_ with those line of words.

He sits back down again, causing Makoto to look at him questioningly. “What’s wrong?”

It takes a while before Rin can find what he needs to say.

“I know you spend every waking moment with Haru,” he starts seriously, (and it’s true; Haru and Makoto has known each since they were _babies_ and now they are flatmates _and_ they still have lunch together every day; Rin has tiresomely accepted that they’re a ‘two-in-one, buy-one-get-one-free’ kind of package) “But _seriously_?” he raises an eyebrow to demand, incredulous.

What about _him_?

He may not be as close to Makoto as Haru is (truth be told, he doesn’t want to, their telepathic bond is kind of creepy) but Makoto is undeniably one of his best friends. Perhaps even his _best_ friend, especially since Sousuke and Haru are superbly prone to pissing him off. It’s not his fault that Sousuke is an asshole and Haru is also an asshole who speaks less words. Makoto is the only friend Rin can’t bring himself to call an asshole.

Except maybe this time, but knowing Makoto, the mistake is probably a bad case of a Freudian slip.

“Makoto,” he sighs. “Makoto. I am nulling our friendship right this very moment. I’m done. So done.”

Makoto blinks, lips parting. “…What did I—“ his eyes widen the moment he seems to realise. “Oh. Oh, _Rin_ ,” he emphasizes hurriedly. “I am so sorry—gosh, it was a slip of the tongue, I didn’t mean to call you ‘Haru’—“

“Except you did,” Rin interrupts, crossing his arms. “We eat breakfast together every day, how could you _forget_ who you were talking to? Do I mean _anything_ to you?” he huffs.

“Of course you do, you’re one of my best friends!” Makoto cries, clearly flustered.

“Best friends don’t forget their best friend’s name,” he interjects monotonously. “You seem to remember your _other_ best friend very well.”

“It was an honest mistake! I’m sorry, Rin,” the other apologises again, earnest. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I called you ‘Haru’, I must’ve been distracted, or something. I’m sorry.”

Makoto leans forward with his eyes wide and pleading. It’s the kind of face that _no one_ can say no to (not Makoto’s younger siblings, not Makoto’s colleagues, not even _Haru_ ); Makoto’s emerald eyes shimmer with sincerity and he looks akin to a kicked puppy—god, he feels _bad_ already, and Rin catches himself the moment his lips unconsciously start to form the beginnings of a fond indulgent smile. The thing is, Makoto’s always been like that, always has been the guy Rin cannot bring himself to call ‘asshole’ even as a bypassing joke. Makoto’s always been the _too nice_ guy. There is no ulterior motive, no sour attitude—it kind of pisses Rin off sometimes; Rin, who wouldn’t hesitate a split second to say a ‘fuck you’.

 “Rin?” Makoto ventures cautiously when all that Rin does is to sit quietly with his lips pressed together. “I’m sorry. I’m really, _really_ , sorry. Forgive me?”

It’s a hard worn battle within Rin to keep his face expressionless or at least look like he’s _angry_ , dammit. He _should_ be. But a quirk tugs at the edge of his lips the longer Makoto bites his bottom lip worryingly and stares at him with those apologetic eyes. It seems like the other catches that tiny expression and the gaze eases into something a little more relieved—but Rin is _not_ going to give in.

He’s not.

“Rin—“

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says loudly, sticking his fingers into his ears. “Friendship over.”

His pseudo irritated expression must’ve needed a hell lot more work because Makoto just sounds amused the next time. “Rin, you’re going to be late.”

Rin pauses then, eyes snapping to his wrist watch. He stands up and leaves, but he stops abruptly on his heel just as he takes two steps away.

“I mean it,” he says as defiantly as he can before he stalks out of the bakery. “We’re done.”

The door does nothing to muffle the sound of chuckles behind him.

 

**\-------------------------**

 

The messages come in the moment he gets to his office and sits at his desk to pull the first stack of paperwork towards him.

 

 _From: Makoto_  
_15/10/2014  
_ _9:36 AM_

_I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to mistake you for Haru!  m(_ _)m_  
_Let me make it up to you :)_

 

 _From: Makoto_  
_15/10/2014  
_ _10:04 AM_

_Are you still mad at me? Rin?_

 

 _From: Makoto_  
_15/10/2014  
_ _10:27 AM_

_Rin, are you still angry? I’m sorry. I really am!_

 

Rin huffs and snaps shut his phone after scanning the message, causing Sousuke to glance over curiously. Nothing is said at that point as they continue through their paperwork, but then the messages start to come in more often. His phone initially vibrates once every half an hour, but by the afternoon when it was clear to Makoto that he was simply ignoring the texts, the messages come flooding in every ten minutes. And then five. And then one.

His phone is now vibrating at a near constant level that it becomes physically impossible to concentrate on scrawling whatever he needs on his documents, but he’s going to ignore his damn phone, dammit. Unfortunately his co-worker doesn’t share the same objectives as he does, and with a quick lean over, the phone is snatched away. Sousuke leans casually backwards into his chair as he stares up at the phone screen.

“Hey—“ Rin starts indignantly.

“Who’s texting you?” Sousuke asks over him, but even as he says this, he violates Rin’s privacy and squints at the phone harder. “Tachibana,” he murmurs when he reads the name, sounding surprised.

“Give that back!” Rin snaps under his breath, rolling his chair over, but Sousuke swivels around to avoid him.

“Huh, why aren’t you answering his apology texts?” the other frowns, scrolling through the text directory. “Why is he even apologising to you?”

Stupid friends with no understanding of the invasion of privacy—this is exactly why Makoto rarely ever pisses him off unlike his two other stupid “best friends”.

“He pissed me off this morning,” Rin says, scowling.

It’s not the entire truth, but hey, he’s allowed to be angry. He should be. He _is_. Fuck, he is so bad at this.

“ _He_ pissed you off?” Sousuke raises an eyebrow, clear disbelievingly, but it relaxes fractionally afterwards. “Then again,” the other muses. “It is _you_ we’re talking about.”

“Fuck you.”

Sousuke ignores the rude gesture from Rin’s hand. “Don’t be a dick,” he says nonchalantly, fingers moving over Rin’s phone. “Just reply him already.”

“No,” Rin huffs, and tries not to feel vindicatedly childish and foolish at the same time while Sousuke busies with his phone.

Then Rin realises what exactly Sousuke is doing—attempting to reply the message on his behalf—and he lunges for his gadget again.

“Sousuke, give me back my phone!”

There is a bit of wrestling and muttered curses and their general attempt to not make too much noise in case another colleague comes in and finds them messing about, but eventually Sousuke holds his phone out of his reach—damn the bugger’s height—and Rin kicks him in the shin.

“Asshole,” he mutters. “Give it back.”

“You’re such a sore loser,” Sousuke rolls his eyes, flinging the phone back to him. “Is that why you don’t want to reply Tachibana?”

“I am not a sore loser,” Rin retorts automatically, scowling. “It’s _justified_.” At Sousuke’s clear disbelief, he elaborates. “Makoto called me ‘Haru’. _Me_. He didn’t even realise that he said it until I pointed it out! How could he do that to _me_?”

“Drama queen,” Sousuke says immediately.

“Am _not_ ,” Rin presses his lips together.

“Then what’s the big deal? You jealous of Nanase?”

Rin scoffs so hard he nearly ends up choking. “No,” he manages after slapping his chest from a coughing fit. “This is _Makoto_ we’re talking about. He probably remembers what brand of toothbrush Haru uses. Fucking hell, I think Makoto remembers _mine_ ,” he pauses suddenly. “About a month ago I bumped into him at the store and—“

“You guys are _weird_ ,” Sousuke says blandly, effectively terminating his story. “Haven’t I said this before?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rin sniffs. “Shut up.”

 

**\-------------------------**

 

Mornings at the police station are generally a quiet affair, unless some idiot decides that robbing a bank at the ungodly hours of the day is a great idea. Afternoons are usually when the calls come in—some childish neighbour feud, cat stuck in a tree, stupid people who parked on double yellow lines—and today sees him and Sousuke rushing down to a family owned mini mart for a reported case of petty theft.

Both of them sigh terribly when they see who the culprit is: a fiery teenage redhead with a smile too wide to be innocent. Mikoshiba Momotarou, their resident kleptomaniac. Most of the stores recognise the kid as harmless by now since all the redhead steals are candy, but it’s still a formality to report him; Rin swears at least half of his paperwork is just to deal with this special idiot.

“Rin-san!” the redhead beams as they step into the shop. “Sousuke-san!”

“It’s _Matsuoka_ to you,” Rin grinds out, rubbing his temples. There is something very wrong when the culprit looks beyond delighted to see the police. He promptly ignores Momotarou after that, turning to the store owners. “What did he take this time?”

“Two packets of Hi-chew and a box of lemon drops, officer.”

Rin sighs and thinks about the several forms he has to fill. “Can I just pay you to pretend this never happened?”

“Rin,” Sousuke looks over at him disapprovingly.

“The kid stole stuff worth like five hundred yen,” Rin states dryly. “Five hundred. I don’t want to fill out five damn forms for five hundred yen!”

They’ve had this argument for the last ten times and Rin has never won. Alternatively, Rin actually does realise he’s never going to get his way anyway, since it breaches the protocol of his own honour, but it doesn’t mean he can’t complain about it.

It’s late by the time he gets home to his studio apartment, wherein he strips off his clothes and lounges on the couch for at least an indulgent hour to relieve the sore muscles in his brain from dealing with the hyper little redhead. It is after that hour when he abruptly realises he hasn’t checked his phone, and blanches when he sees there are close to _a hundred and thirty seven_ unread messages.

So Makoto has unlimited texting in his phone plan, but still. He reads through some of them and snorts at the increasingly desperate sentences—

_I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m really sorry. Please reply?_

_What do I have to do for you to forgive me? I’ll do anything. I mean it._

_Rin...please?_

Rin sucks in a breath and winces. Okay, okay, he might be dragging this a little overboard, but it’s kind of fun to have Makoto waiting on his word. It’s so rare that he even has an _excuse_ to be angry (kind of) at Makoto, it’s perfectly understandable that he wants to relish the moment. He tells himself he will reply Makoto after his shower, but after the hot soothing bath he turns on the television, eats a tub of ice cream before hitting the covers and promptly forgets his mental note.

 

**\-------------------------**

 

It is at eight in the morning the next day when he opens the door to Haru’s bakery as usual that he remembers that he had forgotten to reply Makoto. Before the thought can extend further, however, he spots Makoto in their usual corner and stares.

On their table there is a large spread of bread rolls, clearly Haru’s work, with two of every flavoured bread on the menu. Their breakfast is never this elaborate—fuck, he even sees the cheese bun that Haru always complains messes up in the oven and rarely ever relents to make it. But what _really_ catches his eye is the huge bouquet of white flowers perched at the side.

Rin stares some more as Makoto takes the bouquet, trots over and meets his eye seriously.

“Rin,” the other begins, gaze soft. “Please forgive me?”

The flowers are clearly meant for him to take, but Rin refuses to make his hands move. “W-what the fuck?” he manages.

“I’m really sorry,” Makoto says in reply.

There is a slate of silence after the apology. Both of them stand motionless until Makoto takes a step forward and gently pushes the bouquet into Rin’s arms.

Rin blinks, mouth agape. “Uh…um, okay,” he says, clearly at a loss.

At this, Makoto brightens up. “Really?” he murmurs, pleased.

And then Rin snaps out of it. Wait, _flowers_? He looks down at the sweet smelling arrangement of white petals—well, they do look very pretty, but what the fuck is he going to do with a bunch of flowers, or wait, why is he even holding these flowers; or more importantly, why was he even given _flowers_?

Rin glances back at Makoto and sees that the other is beaming widely, tilting his head slightly. It dawns upon him. The elaborate breakfast set up, the flowers in his hands, a clever play by Tachibana Makoto, sincere guy extraordinaire. Oh hell _no_ , Rin is not that easy to be bought over with food and flowers. He blatantly ignores the faint heat arising to his face—fucking _flowers_ , what the hell.

“Apology not accepted,” he states firmly, smirking inwardly when he sees Makoto’s expression fall. “I’m allergic to…to...uh,” he gestures vaguely towards the bouquet. “Daffodils.”

“Tulips,” Makoto corrects. “And you’re not.”

“How would you know?” Rin demands defiantly.

“You’re not allergic to anything.”

“How do you know that?”

Makoto looks at him oddly. “We’ve had to declare any allergies or health issues when we competed in swim heats. You’re not allergic to anything.”

Damn. “I-I—I still could be!”

“Rin,” Makoto says, and Rin knows that Makoto is definitely laughing underneath that innocent smile. “You like them?”

Rin is abruptly aware that he’s still holding on to the bouquet and he hastily shoves it back to the other. “N-no!” he huffs. “We’re still over,” he insists, jabbing his finger at Makoto’s chest.

“Rin—“ Makoto starts patiently, but Rin swipes the cheese buns from their table and stalks out of the bakery.

 

**\-------------------------**

 

No messages arrive to his phone when he gets to the office and that makes Rin _slightly_ worried. Was his abrupt exit too much? Though, Makoto should know that he’s not genuinely angry _angry,_ like how he knows that Makoto is actually _amused_ at his attempts to stay angry. That innocent smile tells him everything—sure, Makoto may be the nicest guy he’s ever known, but it doesn’t mean that the other doesn’t have a devious streak. They’ve known each other for long enough.

Perhaps Makoto is busy with an incident, but in any case of fire, the police department should have been notified as well. Ah, who knows. The hours tick by and he glances every so often over to his phone. The movement is often enough for Sousuke to suddenly thwack him on the forehead when he looks over to his left, just to check.

“What the hell was that for?” he growls, rubbing his forehead.

“If you want to call him, call him,” Sousuke says with an exasperated air. “You’re being annoying.”

“Don’t butt into other people’s business.”

“Don’t make it other people’s business,” the other counters, scoffing. “You’re moping, and it’s annoying.”

“I’m not—I’m _not_ moping,” Rin repeats, horrified. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t want to know,” Sousuke states, but there is a teasing tone underneath the straight expression.

Rin kicks the side of Sousuke’s chair in retaliation, but that causes Sousuke to throw his pen at him and he responds with a fling of his stapler. They only settle down when a senior officer coughs loudly from the door and they freeze, quietly swivelling back their chairs to their desks. Rin sneaks another glance to his phone three minutes later and still sees no texts. Vaguely he wonders if he _should_ send Makoto a message. It is quite unlike Makoto’s usual behaviour, he thinks. Maybe he was a tad too harsh. Maybe.

Damn, he feels kind of _guilty_ now.

Sousuke clears his throat loudly and Rin glares back at him, leaving his phone untouched. He’ll deal with it after work, he promises himself, but one hour before his shift ends, Rin takes all his guilt back.

“Matsuoka-san,” one of his colleagues wave him over to the reception. “There’s someone for you.”

At first he thinks it could be Makoto, though, Makoto should still be at work too. Instead, he sees a guy carrying a purple wrapped bouquet of the deepest red roses he’s ever seen.

“Matsuoka-san?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he answers warily.

A clipboard gets handed over to him.

“Please sign here.”

Confused, Rin scrawls his signature above a dotted line where he’s instructed to. The flowers gets pushed into his arms before he even realises.

“Have a good day, Matsuoka-san,” the guy bows shortly and leaves.

Rin blinks, and then blinks again at the flowers he’s holding. There are fifteen roses in the bunch, their petals startlingly red and velvety soft.

“Wow, Matsuoka-san,” his colleague looks at him and the flowers with interest. “You’re a lucky guy.”

“This is—“ he starts, and then splutters when he realises how this might look like. “This isn’t what you think it is!” he grumbles, because he knows _exactly_ who sent them.

Well played, Makoto, he admits grudgingly, trying to ignore how horribly awkward he feels walking back to his desk with the bouquet. His co-workers immediately turn his way when he passes them by while he pretends he doesn’t hear the murmuring and whispers—and one loud catcall, coming from none other than fucking _Sousuke_.

“Who’s the secret admirer?” Sousuke grins.

“It’s not from a secret admirer,” he grouses, setting the flowers down on his desk.

Fuck, where is he going to put them? He can’t jolly well throw them away—everyone in the office would probably kill him for being so heartless. Sousuke leans over his desk to inspect the flowers and swipes a small card tucked in the middle of it.

“Hey—“

“ _I’m sorry.”_ Sosuke reads loudly, causing everyone to lapse into giggles and murmurings again. _“Please forgive me. M_.”

“Sousuke!” Rin hisses.

“Matsuoka-san,” someone touches him on the back of his shoulder and he jumps, trying to starve off the embarrassed blush making its way up his neck. “You must be so lucky to have someone who cares for you like that!”

“It’s not like that!” he insists, but more people come by and pat his back. “Seriously, it’s not!”

But no one listens to him and he doesn’t even bother to attempt to explain, grumbling out of the station immediately with the flowers under his arm the moment his shifts end. Its roses. Of course no one is going to believe him if he says it’s just a stupid joke between friends.

Who the fuck sends _roses_?

_Fifteen roses._

Only Makoto, with that kind of dedication the other puts into everything.

Huh, it is _on_.

 

**\-------------------------**

 

Rin refuses to go to Haru’s bakery the next day, breaking their four year tradition. Well, they have skipped a couple of mornings before—when either of them have to respond to a case, or when Haru falls sick. But those days are rare, and never has any of them _voluntarily_ chose not to go to the bakery. Makoto surely won’t expect it. It is revenge for making him take home the bunch of roses, since he has no clue what to do with the flowers. They’re sitting at home in a vase with a bit of water after asking his little sister for “hypothetical” advice—one of the weirdest calls he’s ever done, and he has no wish to repeat it.

He’s only regretting that he basically has no food suitable for breakfast at home, and the random café he dropped by in the morning had shitty coffee and sub-par buns. His stomach is growling with hunger an hour before his usual lunch time (damn you, Makoto) when he gets requested to the reception.

“Matsuoka-san, there’s someone for you.”

Rin pauses warily before he gets up from his seat. Is it Makoto? Or is it some other delivery guy with a weird ass package? Sousuke follows behind him curiously as he walks out to the front of the station.

“Haru,” Rin greets when he sees the chef in uniform, surprised. “What’s up?”

Haru is carrying a medium sized box which he sets on the counter the moment he sees Rin. The chef stares at him evenly in the eye and says in a voice that is _definitely_ much louder than his usual, “Makoto wanted me to give this to you.”

And then the other casually lifts the cover of box and everyone leans forward to peer in.

Inside sits a beautifully decorated heart shaped red velvet cake with the icing: _Forgive me._

“Matsuoka-san,” the officer at the reception says faintly. “Maybe you should forgive them already.”

Rin gapes.

“Haru,” he begins. “You _asshole_ ,” he growls, and without much thought, grabs the front of the other’s uniform viciously.

“Matsuoka-san!” Several voices cry in unison, horrified.

Rin struggles as his co-workers come to separate him from his grip on Haru, and he gets yanked back with his arms restricted forcefully behind him. Haru merely stares back passively with a barely noticeable amused twitch of the other’s lips while he’s being manhandled, the damn asshole.

“Let me go!” he insists vehemently. “I know him—I wasn’t attacking him!” he grumbles. “Or I was, but it wasn’t for real. Or something.” He huffs and straightens his uniform when his colleagues sees that he isn’t going to tackle an unarmed civilian. “He’s an old friend,” he says grudgingly.

“His boyfriend’s best friend,” Sousuke abruptly speaks in the lull, causing everyone to look at him. “Nanase,” he nods towards the chef.

Haru nods back calmly. “Yamazaki.”

“Makoto is _not_ my boyfriend!” Rin scowls. “If anything, Makoto’s _his_ boyfriend,” he points at Haru viciously.

“That’s not what the cake says,” Sousuke replies.

“Fuck you, Sousuke, you _know_ that the two of them are always together—“

Haru doesn’t even bat an eyelid. “He’s not with me now,” he interrupts.

God, Haru can be deliberately frustrating. Scratch that, the other is _always_ deliberately aggravating.

“Yeah…because he’s at work?” Rin says slowly.

There is an awkward silence as Rin squints at Haru—he has no idea where the hell this is supposed to lead on to, and at the end of the minute Haru simply turns on his heel.

 “Makoto’s waiting for your call,” is the other’s final sentence before he disappears out of the doors.

“The hell I will!”

 

**\-------------------------**

 

When Rin was ten, he broke his ankle and still competed in the junior swim heats. When Rin was twelve, his younger sister’s kite got stuck in a tree and he spent three hours up on a branch insisting that he could get it down until his mother came out looking for them. When Rin was sixteen, freestyle was actually his worst swim style, but he stuck with it so that he could compete against Haru during the inter-school nationals. When Rin was nineteen, he still lost to Haru despite four years of pushing himself, but it was by half a second. When Rin was twenty two, he spent nearly five hours coaxing an old lady to step away from the edge of the roof she wanted to jump off.

Now that he’s twenty four, Rin knows that he’s incredibly stubborn when he wants to be. But the problem is, while he’s stubborn, Makoto is _patient_. It’s not a good combination, both he and Makoto, because he won’t relent and Makoto won’t stop persisting.

In the next week, Rin doesn’t appear at the bakery in the mornings. Instead, during the afternoons or evenings, he gets called to the reception. On Monday he gets a box of chocolates delivered. On Tuesday, there is a huge soft toy bundled in crinkly plastic and a red bow sent to him—it turns out to be a shark with velvet jagged teeth. Wednesday sees the flower delivery guy at the station again, this time with a bouquet of purple hyacinths.

On Thursday Haru makes his next appearance.

“What the hell is this?” Rin squints at the CD case placed on the counter.

“Call him,” the other says simply before leaving.

“Matsuoka-san,” the receptionist nudges him with a smile. “Don’t you think it’s time to forgive him?”

Rin drops his gaze from the CD case and sighs under his breath. “It’s not like that,” he grumbles.

It’s only been about a week and everyone in the office is convinced that he has the sweetest boyfriend ever, or something. Which is ridiculous, because Makoto is not his boyfriend and Makoto certainly isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks he is—okay, the gestures are sappily romantic, but the motive definitely isn’t. For once, Rin might not feel guilty at all calling Makoto an asshole. The guy clearly knows how to play the game, and Rin is not giving in.

He picks at the CD case as he returns to his desk, ignoring Sousuke’s curious peer over his shoulder to look at his newest present. It’s just a plain CD inside, with a small booklet on the opposite side. It’s a mixtape, he realises, when he sees the list of song titles written inside. At the last page however, there is a short message.

_Rin, I put this together thinking of you. It’s for you. Only you._

_Please forgive me?_

_Love, Makoto._

Sousuke whistles loudly behind him and his ears burn, snapping the CD case shut.

Rin is losing this game. Badly.

 

**\-------------------------**

 

Rin never texts or calls Makoto, so the presents don’t stop coming. As humiliating as the over-the-top gestures are, it’s actually kind of nice to have near constant attention from Makoto, Makoto who is so _dedicated_ and sincere—half-sincere, because Makoto’s goal is definitely to embarrass him enough to give in, and…and…Rin is still an asshole for dragging on this stupid thing. He doesn’t even know where Makoto finds the time to get all this stuff; and the _money_ , he actually feels pretty bad about that when he thinks about it—but no, he’s not going to give in.

It’s _fun_ , but he feels _bad_ but he’s accepted himself as an asshole so maybe that’s okay. No, it’s not. Goddammit. Stupid Makoto. He chews on the back of his pen, deep in thought until there is the predicted call for him to the reception.

“Matsuoka-san, there’s someone for you.”

By habit everyone looks at him and waits with the excitement for the next inevitable present.

“I don’t want whatever it is,” he answers, petulantly crossing his arms. “If it’s Haru, tell him to fuck off.”

The receptionist shoots him such a disappointed look that he feels offended. A couple of seconds later though, the officer pokes his head back in.

“Matsuoka-san, it’s a...um, Tachibana-san. He said you would want to see him.”

At this, Rin fumbles and drops the pen he was chewing. Now this is unexpected. He hasn’t seen Makoto for the past two weeks. God, he hasn’t spoken to Makoto in the past two weeks. It’s kind of strange when he realises that. Sousuke kicks his chair when he stays seated.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Fine, fine,” Rin sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he makes way to the front.

Makoto has his uniform jacket tied to his sling bag over his shoulder, smiling softly when he steps out. “Hi.”

“…Hi,” Rin replies, suddenly feeling thrown.

It’s easy to ignore Makoto when he doesn’t _see_ Makoto, but now that the other is right in front of him, he scrambles to settle on the appropriate behaviour he should be acting. He’s supposed to be _mad_. Cold war angry. Right.

“How are you?”

“Better before you came,” Rin states, turning on his heel to walk back to his desk.

There is a scandalous gasp coming from someone, and Rin is not prepared for the grip that wraps around his arm.

“What the—hey, who let you in?” he demands, scowling at Makoto who merely cocks his head towards the receptionist.

The person in question sends him a glare and he grumbles under his breath. Of course a total stranger would take Makoto’s side, _of course_. Hell, this is so unfair.

Sousuke pats Makoto’s shoulder when he walks past, his bag over his shoulder. “See you, Tachibana.”

Makoto smiles and nods. “Have a nice evening, Yamazaki-san.”

Sousuke leaves without another word and Rin stares at the other’s back, mouth agape. And then he realises that his other colleagues are packing their things and most had already shuffled out of the station, effectively leaving him and Makoto alone.

“What the hell did you do?” he accuses suspiciously.

“Isn’t it the end of your shift? It’s six o’clock,” Makoto answers, pointing to the clock on the wall.

Dammit. Makoto is right, but _still_. People don’t just _leave_ the office in a coordinated fashion.

“You planned this,” he says, and he definitely spots that victory twitch at the corner of Makoto’s lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rin,” Makoto says, innocent. “But I really did need to talk to you. Are you still going to ignore me?”

“Yes,” Rin huffs. “You think of Haru when you’re with me, and I’m offended. Four years in the bakery, Makoto,” he sighs over exaggeratedly. “I can’t believe you. Our friendship is over. Go away.”

“Rin, come on,” Makoto presses, biting his lip. “I’m sure I can do something to make it up to you.”

“Nope.”

“Rin.”

“No.”

“Rin…please?”

“No, no, no,” he says as he walks around the station, trying to avoid Makoto who is trailing after him close to his heels.

“I’ll ask Haru to bake the cheese bread that you like.”

“Really—wait, no, definitely not!” Rin scowls. “I don’t want to hear about Haru. Go away.”

“Rin! I’ll stop talking about Haru, I swear. Please?”

Rin practically flees out through the back door as Makoto hurries after him, relentless. He scrambles over to one of the police cars and indulges in a slow exhale when he closes the driver’s door, but a second later Makoto joins him on the passenger side and he almost yelps.

“It’s illegal for you to be in here, you know.”

“It’s not,” Makoto replies, amused.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

Rin clucks his tongue and prepares to move out—except, a cold metal cuff clamps around his wrist and he gets jerked back onto the seat.

“What the—“

He pulls his right wrist, finding a _handcuff_ on it. Which is attached to _Makoto’s_ left wrist.

“Makoto!” Rin hisses, incredulous. “Where the fuck did you get that?”

“Um, I took it from your drawer,” Makoto admits sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

Makoto actually looks slightly genuinely unsure this time, and Rin nearly laughs.  He bites his lip in time and leans his head on the wheel.

“Uncuff me, Makoto.”

“Not until you forgive me.”

“Are you serious,” he deadpans, lifting his head to see Makoto’s patient smile. He tugs at his wrist. “Come on, where’s the key?”

Makoto shakes his head. “Not until you accept my apology. I’m really sorry, Rin. I’ll never do it again, I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I’ll—“

Rin holds up his finger, causing Makoto to fall silent. “Nice try, but no.”

“Rin...” Makoto whines.

Huh, might Rin actually win this?

“Uncuff me.”

“No.”

“Makoto, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Rin groans and knocks his head on the seat. “Fine. Be that way.”

He opens the door and tries to get out, but Makoto’s weight across the gearstick on the other side prevents him from leaving.

“I’m going home, I don’t care if you want to be stuck with me. Climb over, Tachibana,” he orders, yanking his right arm to make Makoto move.

Makoto sighs but does as he’s told—it’s a few super awkward minutes as they coordinate their movements to get out of the car from one side. Rin stumbles when he gets out first, pulling Makoto along and they crash together on the pavement. There is a lot of wandering touching as they try to steady themselves on their feet, and at the end of it, Rin is starting to feel like he’s going to be the first one to crack.

He’s not.

Rin usually changes out of his uniform before he takes the train home, but this time there is a predicament that prevents him from doing as such. Makoto plainly refuses to unlock the handcuff so he ends up dragging Makoto along with him, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze as they ride the train home stuck together. Thankfully no one asks any questions while on board but they have trouble exiting the gantry; Rin doesn’t think he’ll ever live down the wink sent his way by the station master. Another reason why he’s _not_ going to let Makoto have his way, dammit.

Makoto follows him obediently enough but continues to spout his apologises that Rin is finding it harder and harder to pretend not to listen—there’s a limit to how much puppy eye begging he can take. They buy bento boxes at a convenient store just below Rin’s apartment, and moment that he unlocks his door, he wants to slam his head against it.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he warns, gritting his teeth as they step in.

On the dining table are the flowers that Makoto has given him over the weeks, all put carefully into various odd jars that he had to hunt around his house. Makoto doesn’t say anything like the good soldier that he is, but he’s clearly trying very hard not to laugh, and Rin elbows him for that. They spend the next hour eating, Rin with a dead weight attached to his hand while Makoto just watches him, amused at his stubbornness.

When they’re done Rin realises that it’s going to be eight and he’s still in _uniform_.

“I need to shower,” he states.

Makoto doesn’t even blink. “Okay.”

Rin raises his eyebrow waiting for a further reaction, but Makoto merely looks back at him patiently.

“…You can’t be serious,” Rin says eventually.

“Forgive me first,” Makoto replies.

Rin takes a moment to contemplate this. He really wants to bathe and have his hand free, but then he doesn’t want to give in, especially not when he’s come so far—he hasn’t endured all those ridiculous gifts and general misconception about his love life in the office and the super embarrassing train ride home _and_ being handcuffed to Makoto for the past two hours. He’s not going to lose that easy.

“I want to shower,” he declares firmly. “My house, my rules. If you’re not going to uncuff me then you’re coming with me.”

He actually expects Makoto to at least _pause_ , but no, Makoto merely shrugs in agreement. Shit, Makoto is clearly a lot stronger willed than he ever credited the other for. Rin refuses to acknowledge how lewd it is dragging his friend into his bathroom, but hell, they’ve bathed together in open showers, there isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before.

But it still isn’t easy to strip as nonchalantly as Haru does all the time. Rin scowls as Makoto stands next to him while he unbuttons his shirt and pants. It seemed like a good intimidation tactic—he was counting on Makoto being embarrassed at his shameless stripping display, but _he’s_ the one feeling the heat. And that’s not really the main problem. He can’t get his shirt off, because his hand is stuck to Makoto’s.

Rin groans and leans on the edge of the sink. “Okay, this is not going to work,” he admits finally.

Makoto chuckles. “Will you forgive me now?”

Rin sours, pressing his lips together. He doesn’t have a choice, does he? He needs to bathe—he doesn’t care if Makoto is all for sleeping in his work clothes, but the police uniform is tight and he’s not going to suffer a night in it, not when he’s in his _house_.

“Damn you, Makoto,” he mutters reluctantly. “Fine. You win, you scheming bastard,” he huffs, crossing his arms.

Makoto smiles widely. “We didn’t have to go this far.”

“No, _you_ didn’t have to go this far,” Rin corrects, but he’s grinning. “The presents? You even had everyone thinking that you were my boyfriend. Almost had _me_ fooled even, especially with that sappy mixtape.”

“I can be.”

There is a very long pause as Rin stares at the other, unsure if he heard correctly. “…W-what?”

 “I. I can be,” Makoto repeats, voice wavering slightly, but his gaze holds firm, though wary.

Rin is suddenly very aware that they’re standing in his bathroom handcuffed together with his shirt and pants unbuttoned and Makoto looks the most serious he has ever seen the other. His mind scrambles for something to say, scrambles to find some sort of teasing tint in Makoto’s eyes, but it comes up with nothing.

After another minute of dead silence, Makoto shuffles his feet.

“Rin,” he murmurs quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Rin unconsciously grips his fists at the uttered words, and before he knows it, he grabs the nape of Makoto’s neck down to crush their mouths together. It’s not a smooth motion—Makoto is slightly taller than he is and their teeth clack at the weird angle, but somehow it naturally moulds into something much more perfect, the heat of their breaths passing between them. Makoto’s hand rests on the back of his waist and he finds himself kissing the other deeper in response.

“H-has anyone told you that you apologise too goddamn much?” Rin mutters when they break apart, breathing roughly.

Makoto’s face is flushed but he smiles teasingly. “You didn’t think it was enough.”

Rin rolls his eyes and he tries not to smirk. “Wait,” he pauses. “What about Haru? The one you _completely_ forgot about me for.”

“I told you it was an honest mistake!” the other whines. “Besides, Haru helped with the presents. Did you like them?”

“Fuckers,” Rin declares. “Both of you.”

Makoto smiles wider. “You liked them.”

“Maybe,” he admits grudgingly. “Will you uncuff me now? This is actually quite uncomfortable.” He shakes his right wrist.

Makoto pauses then, quiet. “...Rin,” he starts so seriously that Rin tenses up. “Can I say something first?”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Rin rolls his eyes. “I get it already. I wasn’t really angry, you know that right?”

“No, I mean…” Makoto bites his lip sheepishly. “The key is in your office drawer.”


End file.
